Trapped

I suppose everyone’s writer’s block is different. I haven’t been myself for the past three hundred and sixty-five days. As much as I would like to, I’m not going to say I’ve been someone else because that wouldn’t get me anywhere. However, I will say I’ve been trapped within myself. I’m not really sure when it happened, but I know it started some time in two thousand and nine. I read somewhere that research shows that people who are spiritual tend to be happier and healthier than those who aren’t. That makes me wonder why anyone wouldn’t want to have some sort of divine being (oxymoron?). Happiness is the ultimate goal, right? So why fight it? Is it anarchy or rebellion? Are people afraid they’ll lose control of themselves or are they afraid to relinquish control of themselves? Either way it is extreme.

Over the next week or so I’m going to try and explain what’s been happening to me. I took a year off from college-it was either that or take the rest of my life off. If you think you’re about to read tales of romance then reader I’m afraid you’ve been terribly mistaken. The ability to romance hasn’t been in my heart since nineteen ninety-nine and even so it was in novels. But no worries because if I am indeed back than my life will be beginning yet again and I have a track record of starting off strong.

I noticed time stopped in my bathroom earlier, right on top of the toilet. You see, there sits a clock on top of the blue toilet in my bathroom. Its battery operated and stopped keeping time at 2:12ish. It’s still ticking, but the seconds hand can’t seem to make it past the 48second mark. Its battery life ticks away into oblivion as it strips itself of purpose in creation. That’s exactly how I lived for about one hundred and eighty-two days. Just one more way to describe depression-don’t worry if you don’t understand it now because I’ll paint a pretty picture for you later.